What do you think of, when you picture a Sukkah? This week, we begin the holiday of Sukkot. At Ohev Shalom, we've built our community Sukkah. In my backyard, I too have built a Gerber family Sukkah, and I imagine that at least some of you reading this have built your own as
well. When you hear the word, "Sukkah," do you picture the one in your backyard, the one built when you were a child, the huts built by the Israelites during their exodus from Egypt, or do you picture something else entirely? I'd love to hear from you, so please write a response on this blog, e-mail me personally, or stop me in the hallway and share. Our Jewish Tradition is actually filled with lots of references to Sukkot, but there are some interesting conflicts and contradictions between them, which leads me to believe that even our Biblical and rabbinic ancestors had lots of different images of Sukkot in their heads when they heard the word. So which one is it?
Underlying this question is a fundamental disagreement about the nature of the Sukkah. Is it a symbol of stability or of fragility? We see both images in our liturgy, so it's kind of confusing. A colleague
of mine,
Rabbi Julia Andelman, wrote about this for our shared alma mater, JTS. She pointed out that, on the one hand, we refer to God as "Ha-Poreis Sukkat Shalom Aleinu," (the One who spreads over us a shelter of peace), but on the other hand, the Birkat Ha-Mazon (the Grace after Meals) on Sukkot includes the line “Harachaman Hoo Yakim Lanu Et Sukkat David Ha-Nofalet” (may the Merciful One establish for us the fallen Sukkah of David; based on Amos 9:11). So we see that the Sukkah is either (both?) the powerful protection we get from God, as we did during the Exodus from Egypt, or it's the Temple in Jerusalem that was destroyed first by the Babylonians and then the Romans.
Yet, in some ways the Sukkah really is both. It reminds us of the fragility of our lives, and how much we're dependent on heat, refrigeration, plumbing, and a good night's sleep. Stepping outside our
comfortable homes for just a short while in the Sukkah makes us VERY grateful for what we have, and perhaps reminds us to do more for those who live everyday in a Sukkah of insecurity, without a roof over their heads, without enough food, and without the ability to improve their situation. At the same time, the Sukkah also persists. Like the phoenix, it is destroyed and rebuilt, over and over. Even when it rains or snows, or the wind blows, the Sukkah either survives it all, or we wait and reconstruct it after the weather has passed. Either way, it's an eternal symbol of our people, and a constant reminder that despite our fragile beginnings in the desert of the Exodus, and all that our people have endured throughout the ages, we are still here; and so are our Sukkot!
I have many memories of this holiday, and this silly little hut: Snow-covered Sukkot in Sweden; rooftop Sukkot in Israel; the largest Sukkah in North America (for over 200 people), in New York City; and the first Sukkah I assembled on my own, that I built for my wife and daughter,
here in Wallingford. For me, the Festival of Booths is very much about BOTH the fragility and the stability. We need the humility of the Sukkah to remind us to care for others, and to feel gratitude for the blessings in our lives. We also need the flimsiness of the Sukkah to see how tied we are to the earth, and to our task of caring for the environment and living our lives in greater harmony with our planet. At the same time, the Sukkah is a powerful and enduring symbol, reminding us of God's role in our lives as well as the tenacity and resolve of our people. But it also can and should mean something different to each person. So my question again is, what does the word Sukkah mean to you? I look forward to hearing what you have to say.
Chag Sameach - Happy Holiday!
Images in this blog post:
1. Gerber Sukkah 2012
2. & 3. Gerber Sukkah 2014
4. Caroline enjoying her first Sukkah!
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